A Farewell
by Harriet Monroe English
Good-by: nay, do not grieve that it is over—
The perfect hour;
That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover,
Flits from the flower.
Grieve not,—it is the law. Love will be flying—
Yea, love and all.
Glad was the living; blessed be the dying!
Let the leaves fall.
More poems by Harriet Monroe
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What has bent you,
Warped and twisted you,
Torn and crippled you?— …
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Washington
when dreaming kings, at odds with swift paced time,
Would strike that banner down, …
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When sunshine met the wave,
Then love was born;
Then Venus rose to save …
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I love my life, but not too well
To give it to thee like a flower,
So it may pleasure thee to dwell …
All poems by Harriet Monroe →